Free Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) by Netta Newbound Page B

taught me how to hate somebody so much, I can taste it. I guess you could say I was your number one student." The girl had made her way back to Annie's chair as she spoke.
    The realisation dawned on a suddenly sober Annie. "Oh my God!" she said in a whisper. "It wasn't my fault. He forced me to."
    "You should have protected us," the girl said. "Children are innocent and helpless. I needed you to protect me."
    Annie, rigid with fear, felt a warm sensation as she pissed herself.
    The girl grabbed hold of Annie's coarse grey hair. Then she knelt on top of her, pinning her to the seat, her knee in Annie's chest. She yanked the hair back until Annie let out a blood-curdling scream.
     
    ***
     
    This was what the girl had been waiting for. She shoved a large object the size of her fist into Annie's open mouth, stuffing it as far down her throat as she could.
    Annie tried to struggle, muffled cries escaping as she thrashed about, but the girl was much stronger than a wasted, weakened drunk.
    She held Annie's mouth and nose closed until her body sagged. Then she reached down and picked up the half-full bottle of vodka and smashed it onto the edge of the windowsill. She rammed the jagged glass into Annie's upturned face, twisting and turning, in and out.
    The girl smiled at the sickening, squelching sounds.

 
     
    Chapter 8
    Amanda
     
    My nose tickled. I swiped the back of my hand across my face.
    More tickling.
    I opened my eyes to find Emma and Jacob standing at the side of the bed, giggling.
    The sun poured in the window making me squint. I held my hand to my forehead, to block out the light.
    "What's so funny? You little rascals," I said, reaching to catch hold of them and causing another bout of giggles.
    "You was snorwing, Mummy." Emma laughed.
    Jacob added his garbled opinion and also laughed.
    "No, I wasn't."
    "Oh, yes, you was."
    We'd played this game a lot since the pantomime last Christmas. I knew not to continue or else we'd be there all day. "Where's daddy?"
    "I'm right here, Amanda." Michael stepped into the room.
    I'd been sleeping in Emma's bed since last week, leaving Michael in our room. He'd stayed out two nights, obviously with his trollop, but at least he had the decency to call so I could dead bolt the door.
    "Oh hi. Sorry I got back so late last night." I knew I must have spoiled his plans, especially with it being Halloween—Michael and his mates always did something on Halloween.
    "That's okay. Right, you two give Mummy a kiss and let's get you ready for day-care.
    After a mad five minutes involving lots of tickling and laughing, the children left.
    I wanted to stay in bed, exhausted after a full day at Judy's. Once I'd packed away all the personal things into boxes, I’d painted the front door step with some paint left over from another job, and I'd begun stripping the wallpaper in the kitchen. I'd also contacted a local plumber because the drains stink, and arranged to meet him next week.
    Our house was in darkness when I had arrived home. I'd phoned Michael earlier in the evening and told him I would be late. Nine-thirty seemed a bit early for him to have gone to bed, but I was relieved not to have to see him.
    He’d left a plate of food on the stove—cottage pie and vegetables. I heated the food up and devoured it with a cup of tea before having an early night myself.
    I dragged my weary body out of bed and headed for the bathroom. It was the next room on our list to modernise. The yucky green bath had a permanent tidemark that wouldn't budge no matter what I used. As I stepped into the ugly, brown-plastic shower, somebody knocked on the bathroom door.
    "Yes?" I stuck my head out of the cubicle.
    "Manda, are you okay?" Michael said.
    "What do you mean? Of course I am—you saw me not five minutes ago. Why?"
    "I found your sweatshirt in the bin. It’s covered in blood."
    "I spilled some paint," I said, shaking my head.
    "Not blood?"
    "Not blood," I confirmed.
    "Are you sure?"
    "Of course I'm sure,